


Relationship Advice

by pitythewise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Relationship Advice, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitythewise/pseuds/pitythewise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationships are harder than they look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relationship Advice

**He's just worried about you.**

"I can take care of myself," Natasha spat, and then apologetically refilled Pepper's wine glass.

"I know," Pepper insisted, lifting her glass in thanks and taking a sip. "And trust me, he knows. It's a man thing. He wants to protect his woman. Tony does it too."

"I am not his… woman," Natasha said, her lips curling in disgust.

"Oh, you're not fooling anyone, Natasha," Pepper chuckled. "You're as much his as he is yours."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that when you two are together, nothing comes between you. When you enter the room, his eyes light up. When he's not next to you, you track him always, to make sure you won't lose him."

Natasha showed no reaction to Pepper's words, but that was enough for Pepper to press on.

"It means he's allowed to be worried about you," Pepper said matter-of-factly. "And you're allowed to be worried about him."

Natasha took a long drink of her glass of wine, savoring the taste in her mouth before swallowing delicately.

"That doesn't make me his."

**If she asks you if she looks fat, you say no. You always say no.**

"I was not aware of this Midgardian custom."

"Look, Thor, it's not hard," Tony said, as his Yoshi avatar hit Thor's Bowser with a green shell. "Do I look fat? No. Did you miss me? Yes. Have you been flying over restricted airspace again? No."

"Midgardians have ownership of the air? On Asgard, we share such a valuable resource."

"Not the point." Yoshi fired another shell, and Tony groaned when he missed. "She's not asking if she looks fat. She's asking if you're not attracted to her anymore."

"My Jane is the most beautiful woman in all of Asgard," Thor proclaimed, and Tony winced at his volume. "And I will best the fool who says any different."

"Tell her that the next time you see her." Tony said, tossing his controller down after beating Thor handily. "But consider lowering the volume a little."

**You can't forget Valentine's Day.**

"Seriously, you're fucked." Bruce circled the table before neatly sinking a ball in the corner pocket.

Tony scoffed as Bruce rubbed chalk onto the end of his cue stick and took aim again.

"I'll just buy her something," Tony replied. "Shoes! She loves them. How many pairs of shoes do you think I can get for a million dollars?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows in response, and then busied himself with making his next shot. The ball barely missed the pocket, skidding off to the side.

"What do you even know?" Tony retorted, eyeing the pool table carefully before lining up his shot. "On your last date, you turned into a big green monster. I have never turned into the hulk on a date."

"I know enough to know that a million dollars' worth of shoes is not going to fix this."

"What about a building?" Tony suggested lamely. "Potts Tower."

"She's the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation," Bruce deadpanned. "I don't think she needs a building."

"Well, no one needs a building--"

"Don't buy her a building," Bruce interrupted. Sometimes, it was best to give Tony short, simple instructions.

"Well, then what can I buy her?" Tony asked desperately, sinking the last ball with an ease that Bruce was jealous of. "Shoes?"

"Why do you have to buy her anything?"

"Should I make her something?" Tony asked, his face lighting up. "Iron man suit? I think I can work around the whole breast issue."

"Tony, Tony!" Bruce called, as Tony started babbling on about the aerodynamics of the female form. "Tony, take her out to dinner to her favorite restaurant. Get her a necklace that you know she'd like but would never buy herself. Apologize. Do not make her an iron man suit."

"You think that'd work?" Tony sounded so much like a child that Bruce was tempted to give him a cookie and be done with it.

"Yes, Tony," Bruce said soberly when Tony sunk the eight ball into the side pocket. "I really think it will."

**Birthdays are important too.**

"I barely remember my own birthday," Tony groaned. "How am I supposed to remember hers?"

"Hell, if I know," Clint shrugged, shooting a dart at a cut out picture of Fury taped to the wall and hitting him square on the eye patch. "Nat always looks confused every time I even mention that she has a birthday."

"Lucky bastard," Tony muttered. Clint went to retrieve the darts from his makeshift dart board, before retaking his position near Tony's workbench. Tony had flat out refused to play him--It's not a competition if you never miss--so Clint had been forced to find other ways to keep himself entertained. "Pepper never forgets anything."

"That's what you get for dating a CEO."

"She wasn't a CEO when I met her." Tony stuck out his tongue as Clint nailed Fury's left nostril with another dart. "She was my personal assistant. I miss that."

"No, you don't."

"Fine, I don't," Tony continued. "But it was a simpler time."

"You're a billionaire. You can't just buy her something?"

"Tried it," Tony said. "Birkin bag. Do you know how much that thing cost?"

"Never heard of it."

"A hundred grand," Tony supplied, and Clint turned to look at him so fast that his dart flew wide.

"American?"

"She threw it at my head."

"Maybe it was her time of the month," Clint suggested with a shrug.

"I dare you to tell Pepper that."

"Fat chance, Stark. I like my balls right where they are, thank you very much."

**Tell her you love her. Just because.**

"You do not think your Natasha would enjoy hearing you profess your feelings for her?"

"Me and Natasha… we're not really the talk-about-our-feelings kind of people," Clint said, as he ducked under an imaginary swing and then thrust his fist into the punching bag. Thor held it immobile in his grasp, and Clint thought he could hear his teeth rattle as the force of the punch rebounded on him.

"But you care for her, do you not?" Thor asked, and Clint could tell he was genuinely confused about their relationship.

"Well, yeah, she's my partner," Clint replied, taking a step back and unwrapping his hands. "But it's complicated."

"Love does not seem complicated to me." Thor sat down on the bench where Clint was rummaging through his bag. He clasped his hands between his knees and looked at Clint as if he was about to reveal a deeply guarded Asgardian secret. "Would you lay down your life for her?"

"Of course," Clint said without thinking. Of course, he would. How could he not?

"Then why would you not tell her?"

"She knows," Clint said, after a pause.

"Does she?" Thor stood, and Clint never appreciated how very tall Thor was until he was towering over him. "The time I have with my Jane is precious. I would always want to ensure that she knows how important she is to me."

"You know, Thor," Clint said, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder and clapping Thor on the back, "for an Asgardian warrior, you sure are girly sometimes."

Thor's laughter boomed across the gym, and Clint winced slightly when Thor smacked him on the shoulder. "Come, Hawkeye, we shall discuss your partnership over food. The Iron Man has informed me of an establishment that allows you to eat as much food as you care to. I believe it's called a 'buffet.'"

**Girls are fucking insane.**

"Don't let Natasha hear you say that," Clint said. Tony nodded his head in agreement, clinking his glass of scotch with Clint's before downing it in one go.

**Say you're sorry.**

"Why should I say I'm sorry?" Clint argued defensively, stabbing his fork in Steve's direction.

"Because you're wrong." Steve was already on his third plate of spaghetti, slathered in Clint's homemade chili.

"How would you know?"

"You're a man," Steve said simply. "You're always wrong."

"What do you know?" Clint muttered under his breath. "You haven't even seen a girl for seven decades."

"You can moan and whine about it all you want," Steve continued. "But if you ever want to get laid again, you need to man up and apologize to your girl."

Clint stared at Steve blankly, as Steve twirled a heaping of spaghetti around his fork and then stuffed it into his mouth.

"I feel like I just got relationship advice from my grandfather."

**Don't take it for granted.**

"You should be with her."

It had taken Bruce twenty long minutes to find Clint, and he had felt the anger bubbling in his gut with each passing moment. He didn't know who exactly he was angry with--Clint, for avoiding medical like the plague; Tony, for causing general mayhem when Steve forced him to let the doctors check his injuries; himself, for being so goddamn indestructible; or Dr. Doom, for causing this whole mess in the first place--but he could feel the tension in his chest as he tried to suppress it. Clint could have everything that Bruce could never have, and instead, he was hiding away, chucking tiny paper airplanes off the rooftop.

"I'm good, thanks," Clint replied, and Bruce could hear the tight control he had over his voice.

"You can fold those things downstairs," Bruce continued. "Plenty of halls to throw them down."

"More room up here."

"Barton," Bruce tried again, taking a deep breath to keep the Other Guy at bay. "What exactly are you doing up here?"

"Throwing things off the roof," Clint deadpanned. "Got anything you don't want?"

"She could die. You do realize that."

"I'm trying to see how far I can get these things," Clint continued undeterred. "I bet Stark could fold a beast of a paper airplane."

"You should see her before it's too late--"

"I used to fold these when I was a kid but never got them very far--"

"She would want you to be there--"

"Turns out height is really the key in this equation--"

"You should be with her--"

"I can't," Clint said sharply, and the words fell unspoken from Bruce's mouth. "Don't you get that? If I go down there and I sit by her bed and I hold her hand and tell her it's going to be okay, it means that I don't think she's going to make it. That I have to be with her before…before…"

Clint's voice cracked over the words in a way that Bruce had never heard him speak. Bruce could hear the pain and frustration and desperation in the other man's voice, and the bubbling of anger in his chest vanished almost immediately.

"I can't," Clint repeated, turning back to the edge of the roof, and for one brief moment, Bruce thought he was going to jump. "She's going to be fine. She's always fine. You'll see."

"Okay," Bruce said finally. "Okay."

Clint was still tense and anxious, and he flinched when Bruce approached him. Bruce took a piece of paper from the stack that Clint had stolen from somewhere and proceeded to fold the paper airplane that he had perfected in grade school. Clint took a breath and then another before sitting on the edge of the roof and continuing to fold his own.

**Love hurts.**

"Pepper slapped me."

"Imagine what happens when Natasha gets mad."

**Fake it.**

"Really?" Pepper asked, taking a bite of her ice cream--two scoops of Oatmeal Cookie Dough, drizzled with hot fudge. "You fake it?"

"Clint likes to feel alive after missions," Natasha said, with a smirk. She had gone with a single scoop of pistachio with crushed nuts sprinkled on top. "I just want to sleep."

"Oh, I know that feeling," Pepper laughed. "I don't think Tony makes sleep a high enough priority in his life."

"Believe me, Pepper. You have to do what you have to do." Natasha licked her spoon clean, and even Pepper found it attractive. No wonder so many men were stealing glances at them as they sat across from each other at a small table by the window of the ice cream parlor.

"Tony's a genius. He'd know."

"Stark's a man," Natasha countered. "They never know. Trust me, I used to do this for a living."

"Sometimes, I forget you're not just Natalie Rushman from legal," Pepper said, almost nostalgically. She had liked Natalie Rushman, had felt the same irrational pang of jealousy that she sometimes felt around Natasha, but she liked the way that Natalie had handled Tony and how she had handled herself. She had thought, once upon a time, that Natalie was a little like herself, when she was just starting out at Stark Industries.

"Would you like me better if I was?" Natasha asked, and Pepper could tell that it was genuine question. Pepper had expected nothing more than lies and subterfuge when she met Agent Natasha Romanoff, but Natasha was probably the most honest person that Pepper knew. She answered questions thoughtfully and sincerely, and when she wanted to know something, she asked it. Natasha had very little patience for games, Clint had told her once. Her entire life was a series of carefully constructed lies, and honesty was the only way she knew to keep herself sane.

Pepper gave the question due consideration, considering both what she thought she knew about Natalie Rushman and what she had come to learn about Natasha Romanoff.

"If I said yes, would you try to be her?" Pepper asked, instead of giving her answer. But to Natasha, she supposed, that might have been answer enough.

"No. I wouldn't," Natasha said simply. After taking a bite of her ice cream, she added, "But I would miss having you as a friend."

"Well, then we'll just have to make due, won't we?" Pepper said briskly, and Natasha was adept enough at social cues to brush the conversation aside.

**Seriously. Fake it.**

"And if I do not truly appreciate her attire?" Thor asked, through a mouthful of ribs.

Steve was matching him plate for plate, sitting on the opposite side of one of the picnic tables that lined the cowboy themed buffet slash hoedown that Tony had selected for them, but he at least had the decency to swallow before replying.

"Fake it."

"What about when she asks what I think of her new haircut?" Tony questioned before adding almost mournfully, "I liked it better long."

"Lie," Bruce answered without missing a beat.

Clint shook his head like it was impossible.

"Nat always knows when I lie."

"Lie better."


End file.
